Dane sat outside waiting for the bus. He wore dark green coveralls and a pair of plain work boots. A brown paper bag, tenuously housing his lunch, hung limply between his legs, its opening twisted and untwisted in his fists. He was running late for work. The schedule on the transit site had said the bus would arrive at 6:00 and reach the East Hilton stop by 6:20. It was now 6:15. Even if the bus arrived at this very moment, and every stop from here till there was empty, Dane would still be twenty minutes late for work.
He’d be chewed out by both his boss and parole officer. The same ultimatums clanged dutifully in his ears. No leniency. No second chances. No excuses. Show up to work on time and do as you’re told… if you like being outside. Anything outside of those terms assured you would earn another couple years back inside. Dane choked out a dry laugh. He often wondered if he could tell one from the other anymore.
His scalp itched. His fingers twitched and jerked up, scratching feverishly as he looked down either side of the road. If he bolted now… but then he thought of her. Already halfway to his feet, Dane sank back down, shook, and submitted, continuing to wait. The brown paper crinkled, wearing thin from the continuous twisting torment. Grasping onto his ever shortening list of things to keep him calm, he feebly restrained that crushing, wriggling, overwhelming feeling. He hung on for as long as he could. Then he called her.
***
Julia saw him hunched over the bench. His soft sheared head was red and irritated. She skirted against the curb as metal met cement, chipping away a bit more from the beaten up sedan. Dane climbed in and they sped off down the road. Dane looked at her and said weakly, “Thanks for coming, Mom.”
“It’s fine, Dane.”
Julia swore as she stomped on the brake, hesitating a second too long at the yellow light of the intersection. Red light flooded the interior of the dark car, and she turned to look at him. They sat in silence for a time, idling, the car’s exhaust a haze in the weak early morning light.
“Well, here we are.”
“Mom—”
The mercurial red interior flashed hastily to green and they veered left.
“It’s okay. It really doesn’t matter. Linda won’t mind if I’m a little late.”
“I’m really sorry. It was either this or be late.”
Julia watched from the corner of her eye as he stared at his lap. His fingers constricted, squeezing one another, pressing flesh against flesh in such a way that was comforting. Reminiscent of something she missed more than anything. Toy planes, trains, trucks, and cars; anything that could move faster than himself he used to grip till she was sure his hands would break. Somehow they never had. Julia began to shake. Realizing she had drifted into the rumble strips, she jerked the car back to the center of the road.
They arrived outside East Hilton Cemetery at 6:29am. A soft pearl halo rose over the hills.
“Thanks again for the ride, Mom. I hope I didn’t screw up your morning.”
Julia wanted to say so much. By the time she had it phrased right in her head, the door shut with a dull thud. She watched Dane rush across the lawn, a verdant blur racing between the columns of tombstones to the groundskeepers’ squat brick office. For a couple of moments, she pictured him free.
MATTIE B. is a writer out of the Midwest. You can find his fiction, poetry, and essays at shinyhappyperson.substack.com.
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